


Confidant

by notjustmom



Series: Words, Words, Words [6]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Johnlock Fluff, M/M, ee cummings poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-04
Updated: 2015-11-04
Packaged: 2018-04-29 20:29:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5141495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>confidant: noun, KAHN-fuh-dahnt: one to whom secrets are entrusted; especially : an intimate friend</p>
            </blockquote>





	Confidant

He peered over at the man sprawled on the other side of the bed, dark curls astray, sheet tangled around his hips, a slight smile dancing across those magnificent lips. He would consider his flatmate his friend, obviously his lover, his partner in all things, but a confidant? Would he trust him with those stories, those stories that created his nightmares? Yes, quite possibly. Did he trust the man who took his mind, body and what others may consider his soul to places he didn't believe existed before? Yes.

So, he began to unpack all those stories that he had buried. All the childhood bumps and bruises, the angst of that first kiss that was awkward and not quite right; the moment when he knew that he loved his brilliant, gorgeous, maddening flatmate. All of it poured out, as if the sleeping man were a priest in a confessional. 

Halfway through this midnight confession, the sleeping man began listening, simply listening to his lover's words, his fears, his castoff dreams and his love. He kept his eyes shut and his heart open, and allowed the words to heal his scarred parts. At the end, his partner kissed his lips softly and whispered, "No one else, ever, Sherlock. I am yours." He then rolled over, and fell asleep, as if he had emptied out every last bit of himself.

"...here is the deepest secret nobody knows  
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud  
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows  
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)  
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)"

was the only response that seemed enough, whether John heard it or not, a response was necessary and spoken; fingers found other fingers, lips found their counterparts, secrets were kept.

**Author's Note:**

> the full poem by e.e. cummings:
> 
> i carry your heart with me(i carry it in  
> my heart)i am never without it(anywhere  
> i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done  
> by only me is your doing,my darling)  
> i fear  
> no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want  
> no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)  
> and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant  
> and whatever a sun will always sing is you
> 
> here is the deepest secret nobody knows  
> (here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud  
> and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows  
> higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)  
> and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart
> 
> i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)


End file.
